


Symphony No.9

by otabeks_agape



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Angst, Anorexia, Because Yuri obviously, Eating Disorder, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 18:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10417974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otabeks_agape/pseuds/otabeks_agape
Summary: "He was especially proud not only to be Yuri Plisetsky's friend, but his best friend.  Therefore he, despite not being very experienced in terms of relationships of any kind, tried his very best to be the best friend he could be and so far he had the feeling he had done a pretty decent job. He came to know him and Otabek liked to believe that this was a privilege only a few people, if not even only he himself and Yuris grandfather experienced.However,  with the current situation Otabek was at a loss."





	

**Author's Note:**

> I write my final exam in biology tomorrow so naturally instead of studying I decided to finish of this fanfiction literally nobody asked for. Nice.   
> Kudos and comments are much appreciated! c: I would be very grateful if you point out mistakes, since this is unbeta'd and english isn't my first language, but I really want to improve!   
> Also please note that I never experienced any of the scenarios myself, so I apologise if I haven't portayed them realistically.   
> Aaand my tumblr, because why not: https://otabeks-agape.tumblr.com/

Otabek Altin was not a generally proud man. However, when he did take pride in something he was proud with a passion. He was proud of his origin and to be considered Kazakhstan's hero, therefore he did everything he could to make his people proud as well and represent his home as best as possible. He was proud of being an ice skater, therefore he dedicated his entire life to succeed as one. And he was especially proud not only to be Yuri Plisetsky's friend, but his best friend. Therefore he, despite not being very experienced in terms of relationships of any kind, tried his very best to be the best friend he could be and so far he had the feeling he had done a pretty decent job. He came to know him and Otabek liked to believe that this was a privilege only a few people, if not even only he himself and Yuris grandfather experienced.  
Even though they already had a special connection when they were reduced to only virtual meetings and phone calls, Otabek learned that it was easier to come to know people by really being around with them for some time. And ever since Otabek moved to Russia they had spent plenty of time together, on the ice as well as off the ice.  
He lived there since about a year. The kazakh skater made this decision after slacking at his routines due to the lack of motivation of his own coach and also because he dearly missed his best friend. He'd never admit the latter, though he had the feeling Yuri knew anyway. Otabek worked hard to never show his emotions too obviously, to only let other people know what he wants them to know.   
Yuri broke that barrier with ease. The older man felt like the russian boy could read him effortlessly, like an open book and for some reason Otabek was mostly comfortable with it and sometimes even grateful. Being Otabek Altin meant to be constantly misunderstood and to be seen as „rude“ or „arrogant“ because of his lack of expression and social interaction. The fact that at least one person showed genuine interest in him gave him a warm feeling.  
The execution of the idea that started as a joke with serious undertones, shared in one of their endless skype sessions, was surprisingly fast. It wasn't until a few months later that Yakov was convinced to take care of Otabek as well, the organisation was mostly done and he made his way to Russia, a humble flat and a new ice rink waiting for him. And after a few more months of breathing the same air of St. Petersburg, finding shared favourite cafés and talking without restrictions like time or technology, Otabek could say with a good conscience that he truly came to know Yuri. He was aware that they just clicked well in the first place, but even after such a small amount of time they were able to have entire conversations with nothing more than a long glance at each other.  
He knew when Yuri was truly angry and when he used anger to cover up something else. He knew when Yuri needed to be left alone and when he needed a shoulder to lean on.   
He knew Yuri and the other way around. 

However, with the current situation Otabek was at a loss. Something was off. It was hard to put into words, but whatever it was it got worse with every passing week. It started as increasingly bad mood. Yuri would start to get loud more easily than before or rather almost as easily as when he was an angry 15-year old. Otabek wouldn't have thought much of it if it wasn't for the simultaneous decrease of his private smiles (how Otabek liked to call them). After the months of living here it had become clear that whatever Yuri acted like in front of other people, it didn't necessarily mean anything. That was something the russian and the kazakh boy had in common; they both couldn't display their emotions properly, though Yuri hid them under an obnoxious layer of attitude while Otabek just decided to show nothing at all. If he was truly bothered or sad he would tell Otabek, his person of trust (how Otabek would like to be called). If not, he wouldn't stop smiling at least. But now that was the case. He didn't just stop smiling of course, it felt more like it just kind of slipped through invisible cracks in Yuris happiness. Only then after Otabek began starving for the way the boys eyes lit up when he smiled, truly smiled, he realised how much it had fueled his own happiness, too. He found himself frowning a lot more those days.   
Not only his smiles became a rarity, though. Their meetings and sleepovers became less, their late night phone calls became less, even just looking at each other seemed to bother the younger boy. Otabek came to the conclusion that Yuri struggled with something, but stubbornly tried to hide it. Even though the kazakh man had a feeling that he didn't want to be alone this time, every attempt of reaching out to the russian resulted in a growth of the gap Yuri's secret created between them.  
And just like that their connection was slowly buried underneath a pile of avoided gazes and ignored calls and growing distance. With every step Otabek tried to take towards his friend he was being denied more harshly until he didn't really try to make advances anymore.   
He learned that it was easier to come to know people by being around them but apparently that didn't ensure closeness. In fact, the last time he felt this distant from Yuri was when he was thirteen and struggling at Yakov's ballet camp. When he wanted to meet those brillant eyes of a soldier.   
It was lonely. It truly was. Without Yuri he realised how much of a foreigner he actually was. Russia wasn't his home; the only thing that made him feel that way had been Yuri's presence. Georgi, Mila, Viktor and Yuuri were his rink mates but they weren't his friends. And the city he used to explore on his bike with Yuri sitting behind him wasn't Almaty. Even the coffee tasted more bitter when the boy wasn't with him in their usual spot in their usual café.   
The worst thing was that Otabek could tell that Yuri felt even lonelier. The somehow lost looks he gave him, the way his sweaters seemed to grow larger around him and how he bit his lip seemed to tell whole stories Otabek had yet to understand. Helplessness was a feeling he couldn't handle well. To observe, but not to understand. To see, but not being able to act. It threatened to drive him mad someday.  
Even Viktor who usually was too caught up with either Yuuri or himself tried to ask Yuri what was up on a regular basis, sometimes more and sometimes less serious. The answer was always an insult. 

The situation got only worse after one particularly disheartening practice for Yuri. He had failed jump after jump. Otabek had noticed before how he was slightly slacking in practice but this was the worst he had ever been. He would always stagger on thin legs and fall until Yakov didn't even yell anymore, just shook his head in silence which was somehow worse than if he had raised his voice. It had been a tragic display. Like the soldier Yuri was he stood up again and again, trying more furiously each time, but whatever it was that haunted his thoughts made him fall, again and again. Like a broken record. Yuri ignored how they called his name, how Yakov ordered him off the ice and kept on in bitter determination until his legs wouldn't support him anymore. Otabek sensed Yuris tears before he saw them hit the ice.  
And it hurt. It hurt. He wanted to comfort the russian boy so bad and sooth his pain even a little bit, even if he had no idea what kind of pain he had to sooth, but before Otabek had the chance to do anything, Yuri had already managed to get up and flee the situation with weak knees and wobbly legs. Nobody said it out loud, but they all thought the same thing. Their worries were validated. Something was awfully wrong.  
Otabek felt Yuuris and Viktors gazes burn in his back. When he turned around and met their eyes, they looked at him questioning, almost accusingly.   
What is happening, Otabek? Why did you let it come this far, Otabek? You were supposed to be his best friend, how come you are so uncapable of helping Yuri?  
I don't know. I don't know...

 

The kazakh man decided to talk to Yakov after his own training was done. He asked the coach if he knew anything regarding Yuri. If he noticed anything. To his surprise the old man seemed tired. As if he had to put up with a lot of strain these days and couldn't keep up with his own energy consuming temper.  
„Yuri“, he said, paused for a moment and began again, „Yuri struggles. Both mentally and physically.“ That was all Otabek got and it kept him up all night.

 

The next day Yuri acted as if nothing happened. He ignored every question regarding his well-being. He didn't greet Otabek. He practiced his routines for the upcoming competitions.  
From there on Otabek tried to observe the younger man more than ever. Whenever he could spare a few seconds or so he watched Yuri.  
What was it? What was different? What was wrong?  
His movements were graceful as always, but when he looked closely, they were weaker somehow. His body still seemed fragile despite his growth spurt, but not as powerful as it used to.  
He was himself, yet not entirely.   
Otabek swallowed when he saw how Yuris leg trembled after landing a jump as if it couldn't support the weight. Has that always been a problem? And were Yuri's legs always that skinny...?  
An idea began to creep its way inside of Otabeks mind, grimly whispering that maybe... Maybe...   
Maybe it was worse that Otabek reckoned. 

Ever since that paticular thought clawed on his brain it didn't let him go and he soon found himself researching in the dead of night, consumed by cold worry. There was not a second outside of his practice that he didn't spend with thinking about his friend. He even began dreaming of Yuri, how his fair skin and the flesh underneath and everything that kept him alive began to wither away rapidly, until there was nothing left despite his deadly white bones.  
He was sure though, that Yuri would no more than insult him if he were to speak that up. Otabek didn't want to break their last cracked bonds and he couldn't stand the mere thought of being hated by him so he simply continued to observe Yuris behaviours intently.   
And the longer he watched Yuri, the clearer the signs got. One incident in particular validated Otabeks hideous assumption; he witnessed how the younger man threw away the beloved hand-made katsudon-pirozhki of his grandfather. He had seen earlier that Nikolai gave a bag of them to his grandson and though he couldn't catch what he was saying the look on his face seemed worried. And now that Yuri threw away something he used to love and devour within seconds was heart breaking and at the same time terrifying. It was terrifiyng for Otabek at least, because throwing away the food of his grandfather was so absolutely unlike Yuri that it didn't only validate Otabek fears, it also showed that he became less himself by the day. He tried to swallow down his tears and the memories of Yuri sharing a pirozhki with him for the first time. He failed miserably at both.

From then on things became even tougher. Everytime Otabek noticed that Yuri lost hair, he frowned. Yuri trembled on slender legs, he shifted anxiously. Yuri fell, Otabek winced. The boy slowly became the sceleton of Otabek's nightmares. It was so strange that the same boy who had been talking a whole lot about food just a few weeks prios was now depriving himself of it. He felt helpless and there was an unfamiliar urge to scream at Yuri. Maybe he would finally open up if he saw how his own self-destruction hurt the people around him and that especially Otabek was going mad to see him like this. Mad enough to raise his voice which was something so utterly unlike him that the kazakh man began to fear to lose himself as well.  
He didn't talk to Viktor and Yuuri either because he feared they would crowd the young Russian too much in their concern. On the other hand they possibly could be able to help Yuri better than he was able to. The man struggled to find a solution. It would be good to tell somebody, wouldn't it? He had to tell someone. And yet Otabek was torn between the possibility to help Yuri at last even though it would be most likely against his will and the fear of being pushed away even farther, of being hated. He also felt like telling someone would make it reality.   
It was selfish. Guilt curled inside of him, but it was only one of the many things that kept him company ever since he guessed Yuris condition. It slowly became suffocating.

 

For a few weeks things went on like this. Yuri became less himself, Otabek became more agitated and they both failed more and more often in practice.  
One time after he fell particularly hard because of a failed triple axel he dared to look at Yuri who froze in his tracks not far away from him. His green eyes locked with his and for a moment Otabek caught a glance of all the feelings Yuri was hiding. He saw sorrow and anger and guilt and something a little softer that made the whole situation seem all the more bitter. Otabek wished he could see that warm glimmer in his eyes without the heaviness of the circumstances. He blinked and Yuri turned his back to him.

One day Otabek screamed at Yuri.   
There was no event in particular which triggered his outburst nor was there any other indicator that he would explode any time soon. It just kind of happened. It surprised Otabek at least as much as it did surprise Yuri, judging by the look on his face. It happened after practice when the both young men changed in the locker room. Yuri headed to the exit without saying goodbye when suddenly Otabek just pulled him back by his wrist. Maybe it had been the complete absence of anything at all that made him shout. Maybe it was the heavy feeling of being strangers with the only person he ever felt close to that made him snap.  
He looked Yuri in the eye who was still too taken aback to pull away.  
All the emotions of the last weeks transformed into words and resounded in the cracks and edges of his voice.  
„Why?! Why do you always think that you have to fight alone?! I thought we were friends, damn it! I thought I was the one person you trusted, but now I have to just watch, how.. how you destroy yourself! I fucking care, okay, and it hurts to see you like this! Do you have any idea how helpless I feel? How lonely? I fucking moved to Russia because of you! But you just push me away...“   
He lost the urge to shout as suddenly as he got it. He loosened his grip. „Yura... Please... Let me in..“  
Yuri looked at him and there were too many emotions in his eyes than his face could express. He looked empty, because he was too full.   
Otabek was reminded of the skull that haunted his dreams.  
„Beka...“ The nickname almost made the kazakh man cry. „Beka. I can't. Please just stay the fuck away from me.“ With that he almost ripped his hand out of Otabek's, even though there was no need to do it that violently and disappeared.   
That day Otabek had done a lot of things that were utterly uncharacteristic. He had shouted, he had cursed, he had admitted how he moved to Russia partly because of Yuri and he had touched the boy in a way that probably made him uncomfortable.   
The worst however was that he made Yuri treat him like he treated everyone else.   
He decided it was time to talk with Yuuri and Viktor.

 

Yuuri and Viktor were more collected than Otabek had anticipated. He expected them to be completely shocked, he feared at least one of them would start to cry or do something rushed. In fact, they handled the situation in such a mature manner that just then Otabek realised he never quite took them seriously before and now he was sorry for that. While Viktor called Nikolai to tell him about Otabeks observations, Yuuri talked with the kazakh man. In this moment he didn't feel like 22 years old, he didn't feel like a grown-up at all. He was just some kid that couldn't help his friend and now he had to consult adults to handle the situation. He was embarrassed. He felt guilty. He wanted to cry. Again. And Yuuri gently and patiently talked him out of it. No, no one accused him of being a bad friend and yes, he could have told them sooner, but it was completely understandable that he was hesitant about it.   
Neither of them had heard what Viktor was talking about with Nikolai and it was only until he hung up that his calm attitude cracked. Otabek felt Yuuri shift beside him; he sensed Viktors unease and hesitation as well and it made him feel unsettled. „... What is it, Viktor?“  
Viktor looked at them, his eyes lingered a moment too long on Otabek. He tensed.   
„Nikolai already knew about Yuris condition..“   
A little pause.  
„He broke down right after he got home. Apparently because of malnutrition and overexertion. He's in hospital right now.“

 

The doctor of the hospital and a psychiatrist gave Yakov a whole lot of information on Yuris health situation. The coach had insisted that Otabek joined their conversation, but he didn't want to hear about what kind of lacks Yuri had or how much muscle was eaten up by his disease and he absolutely hated the words they used over and over again. Anorexia nervosa. The doctors said that Yuris break down was most likely caused by acute stress for they didn't find any indications for kidney or heart failure or anything like it. As it seems he was starving himself for long enough to be seriously physically worn out, but not enough to have damaged his body big time.   
Those facts didn't lose the tightening feeling around his throat. It didn't make Otabek worry less. He just wanted to talk to Yuri. Now.   
After endless discussions about what kind of therapy the boy needed now and when he will most likely be able to go back to sport Otabek and Yakov left the office of the doctor. The silence that stretched between them was tense, full of unsaid words and questions. They both wanted to say, „Why didn't you tell me sooner? Have you known?“, but they knew it would not do any good. They were both at fault for not knowing or not telling.  
Instead Otabek asked, „can I see Yuri now?“  
He could.

 

Yuri didn't look up when Otabek entered the room nor did he look up when Otabek took a seat beside him. He didn't tell him to fuck off either which counted as a somewhat good sign, Otabek supposed.  
There was a moment of silence as Yuri intently looked at his hands as if they were the most interesting thing in the world while Otabek did the same with the boy in front of him. He was never the eloquent kind of person but his unability to find the right words weighed heavily on him right now. There were so many thoughts scattered around in his brain that he didn't know where to begin picking them up.   
Eventually Yuri spoke up first, still avoiding his gaze. His voice was as thin as the wrists he was staring at. „Beka... I'm sorry...“  
A moment later Yuri started crying. A moment later Otabek had his arms around him, trying to give him the warmth neither his own body nor his mind could provide. „Shh, Yura.. Don't apologise...“ He gulped down his own tears. He ran his fingers through the boys' thin, golden hair.   
„I'm here.... I'll always be...“  
They sat like this for some time, Yuris forehead pressed against Otabeks chest, who placed his arms firmly but gently around him. And like this Yuri was sobbing, spotting the kazakh's t-shirt with tears and snot, digging his fingers into the fabric almost desperately.  
Eventually Yuri calmed down and wiped away the last traces of salt on his skin.   
Than he began to talk.  
„It began... I don't know, a few months ago. You know how I had my growth spurt? Yeah, that was pretty fucking terrible, you know. It was suddenly as if my body didn't belong to me any more. Despite the aches and everything I couldn't control my movements as... gracefully anymore. Lilia tried to be considerate, but she was pissed, I could tell. And I was pissed, too. Yeah, I've told you that much, right? Anyway, my body also started to... look different, I guess. Like, my shoulders and my chest got broader, my muscles stood out more than before, I overall looked more... masculine, maybe.“ He huffed and sniffled than. „I always thought I wanted that. I always wanted to be cool and manly... Like you.“ Yuris green eyes met his for a brief second. He looked down again.   
„But when it happened I... I got insecure, you know? I'm the fucking fairy, damn it. A lot of people like my skating, because I'm like, „delicate“ and shit. I feared that if I lost my fans I would lose my sponsors. And I thought about how I told Lilia that I would sell my soul to succeed so why not my body? I don't fucking know. I was so frustrated, because my body just didn't... fit me anymore and I felt like I had no control over it.“  
He quickly reassured if Otabek was still listening. He was.  
„It started with a simple diet. Nothing harmful, right? I mean, you know the drift. As an athlete you always have to watch what you eat, blabla, but I... kind of got obsessed with it. With food, I mean. Later on I got obsessed with calories. Than with losing weight. And I... Beka, shit, I fucking hate myself.“  
Yuri didn't know at what point he started to cry again or took hold of Otabek's hand, but he didn't care.   
„I hate my body for never being enough and I hate myself for pushing you away and I hate myself every time I fail a jump and everytime it happens I feel like I have to punish myself. No jumps? No fucking food, too bad. I'm sorry. I'm so weak. I'm no soldier. I never was.“  
„Yura, don't say that.“  
Otabeks stern voice made him look at him through a curtain of tears and he tried not to care what he looked like. Before he could say anything, the older boy proceeded.   
„Yura, I never considered you weak and even now I couldn't think of it. I still see the soldier in you... He might have been lost temporarily, but he's still there, still ready to fight.“   
There was a moment of hesitation before he gently laid his hand on Yuris cheek and wiped away the tears. He was warm beneath his fingers. No skull.   
„And you did fight. But it was a battle against your body. I think... You have to learn to fight with it, not against it. You have to fight the wrong perception you and others have of yourself. Because you are incredibly talented. You don't have to meet the standars of others to stand out or to succeed. You have to make the best out of yourself. And the best isn't just plain thin.“  
Otabek noticed Yuris reluctance. He placed the tiniest kiss on his knuckle.   
„I know it's a lot. Nobody expects you to be magically cured now, okay? There is no pressure. Take the time and help you need. I will be here to remind you how strong you are. I will always be here for you.“   
The russian boy gulped and after a second he nodded silently. They shifted around, so that Yuri could lay his head on top of Otabeks lap. A moment passed.   
„I missed you“, Yuri said.   
„I missed you, too.“, Otabek replied.   
Than Yuri fell asleep.

 

Otabek Altin was not a generally proud man. However, when he did take pride in something he was proud with a passion. And he was especially proud not only to be Yuri Plisetsky's friend, but his boyfriend and his person of trust (how Yuri liked to call him). Therefore, as he stood next to the ice rink and watched Yuri getting ready for his performance he shouted „Davai!“ loud enough to drown out all the other cheers. When Yuri grinned and gave him a thumbs up, his chest swelled with pride and happiness.   
His theme was „winner“ this year. Some people called it arrogant, some people called it confident. Otabek called it accurate.   
Yuri began to dance and his powerful movements swept everyone's doubts away.   
A soldier, indeed.


End file.
